how silly of me to read your skin
pressing, your pressing as subcutaneous.

deep is relative. i know. and my reason
dizzies drunk on nonsense

on fancy on romance. on nonsense.
&i knew better than my excited

utterance, braided in borrowed sheets
in childhood bedrooms and now

i wait. like spoiling food, waiting
for teeth to sink and my nectar

to spill over lips, to be lapped up
to be savored, to be loved.